Liefde
by wolverinacullen
Summary: Liefde is Dutch for love. In 1944, Arkady Rossovich, Omega Red, cares for a young Jewish girl escaping persicution. Years later, they reunite, with unexpected consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Liefde**

It was 1944, and World War II was almost over, that didn't stop Natasha Tarasova from leaving her home in Transylvania to escape to Russia from Nazi persecution.

The moment she stepped into Red Square, Arkady Rossovich had turned from his comrades to see the girl in the thick, burgundy, wool coat. The first thing he noticed was that despite the icy wind, her caramel colored curls stayed perfectly in place. Secondly, that the little girl standing across the square was indeed, a little girl. She couldn't have been more than nine, her skin softly pale with rosy pink in her cheeks. It was her eyes that made him cross the square toward her.

He thought perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it wasn't. Her eyes were lavender. A bright, soft, lavender. She saw him and looked up at him, clutching her little suitcase.

At first, he was at a loss for words, then he lowered himself to her level, "Where did you come from, little one?"

"Far, far away. On the train. It took two days."

He felt a strange sense of compassion for the small girl. He took the girls ungloved hands in his, warming them, "What is your name?"

"Natasha. Natasha Tarasova." She smiled at him. Her teeth were like perfect little pearls.

"Do you have a place to go, Natasha?"

She shook her head. He took her suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other, "I will see to it you are taken care of."

She smiled and said, "Thank you Mister..."

"Arkady."

"Arkady."

He sat her down at the kitchen table after moving the girl into a spare room. The food wasn't extravagant, but Natasha ate like it was.

"What are you doing here with no one to take care of you?" he asked as he took her dish.

She hopped down from the table, her tiny mary janes clicking on the floor. Under the jacket she'd been wearing a blue dress and white stockings, and she looked very much the child she was. "My parents were going to go to the ghetto and they left me with my aunt and uncle, but the kapo knew I left, and they were going to find me, so my aunt gave me money and my uncle drove me to the train in the middle of the night. He told me to go where I could afford, so I came here."

Her tiny hands tugged on the edge of his shirt, causing him to turn. She looked at him, "Why do you look like that?"

"I have been bonded with carbonadium" he said, rather quietly, "I am Russia's super soldier. They call me Omega Red."

She pulled up the chair and stood near him, her tiny hands pressing to his wrists, "What's wrong with your arms?"

He looked at her and felt an immense pang of empathy toward the little girl with the strange eyes and hair. He extended his coils, slowly. She gazed at them like a cat watching a mouse slowly emerge from a hole in the wall. When they were fully extended, she smiled, "Strange, but..."

"What?" he asked.

"Are they supposed to be scary?"

He laughed. He was surprised at the relief that washed over him as he retracted them, "No little one, I have no intention to scare you."

She jumped down and carried the chair back, "Good. Because I like you Mister Arkady. I'm glad you found me."

She turned to him and smiled. He felt a different kind of relief at that smile, a foreign kind. She furrowed her brow for a moment, causing him to smile in amusement. "What is on your mind, Natasha?"

"Where do I sleep, Mister Arkady?"

It took him off guard for a moment. She didn't cling to his leg like he would've expected when she lowered her eyes and asked, "Can I lay in your bed like I used to with my Poppa?"

He filled with regret, sighing at memories of women and children that had died at his hand. He made a mental vow to take care of this one.

"Of course."

She broke into a smile, "Thank you."

He couldn't help but mirror it, "Go wash up."

He watched her run off and sighed; for the first time in his life, he wondered what the hell he was doing.


	2. Chapter 2

When he opened his eyes, it wasn't dawn. Vague, swirling things ran through his mind. He was only vaguely aware he had a nightmare, aside from the little girl clinging to his arm.

"Natasha?"

"Mister Arkady, you were screaming."

He released his breath and wrapped his arm around her, "It was a nightmare."

"My Poppa used to tell me to talk about them and they wouldn't be scary anymore."

He looked at her, watching her eyes close as he began to speak, "There are men, always men. The men that put me through the process that made me who I am now. It was nothing at the time, but it has become a nightmare now."

Quietly, he allowed the little girl to drift to sleep as he told her his nightmare. He knew a little girl could never fathom the thing, yet somehow, he found relief in telling her anyway.

When morning came around, Natasha dressed in a little green dress with her mary janes and sat at the table, waiting for Arkady to give her some breakfast. He had no correct idea what the girl would like, but even placing bread and butter before her proved to be successful. She ate as if he were feeding her a feast.

He sighed, letting her be as she ate. He had no idea how to take care of a young girl, especially not one sought after by the governments of the world.

"Mister Arkady?" Natasha was swinging her feet, her smile so full of life that he changed his mind instantly.

"Yes?" he uncrossed his arms from over his chest.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Weeks later, he was back at the train station with Natasha. She clung to his hand as if she were his own; a feat hardly accomplished. They boarded, her little suitcase clapping against her hip. He knew of all people, he could get her out of the country.

"Papers" the conductor said. He looked at Arkady, and realizing who he was, moved on without another look at Natasha. Still, her ticket read _Natasha Rossovich._

The moment the train stopped, he looked at her, "There's a woman waiting for you. Please, call her mother and go with her."

Natasha nodded. The moment she stepped off the train, a young woman, an old friend, shouted her name. She ran over, shouting for her mother. No one was surprised at the sweet scene of a little Russian girl rejoining her mother. No one but Arkady, who saw the look back Natasha gave him as she walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been just short of sixty years since he'd so much as had time to think of Natasha Tarasova-a shocking concept to him alone. But being in New York, he thought of her the moment he saw a girl in the center of Times Square, caramel colored pin-curls like Natasha's. He felt as if it were inconceivable, but still he approached her.

"Natasha?"

She whipped around, and his eyes widened. Her lavender eyes met his red ones. He knew instantly two things were very wrong; one, she only looked as if she'd aged twenty years in sixty. Two, he was suddenly very, very attracted to her. She wore low riding white leather pants with matching sandals, her hair was loose, falling elegantly down to the center of her back. A pink scarf, sparkling delicately with silver trim, wrapped around her neck. Large bracelets were on her wrists, and a suede bag on her hip. Her shirt was short sleeved, a schoolgirl's shirt, with a ruffled pink vest over it. She was racing at him before the details of her appearance fully went from his eyes to his brain, her arms flinging around his neck and her legs around his waist. He caught her on instinct, his hand pressing to her back. He laughed; a deep, rumbling laugh.

"You are not the little girl I remember" he murmured as he set her down.

"I'd be much older if you hadn't helped me" she said, brightly, "I'm a mutant, Arkady. I live in District X. I was in the Brotherhood for a time." He noticed the accent in her voice had never faded. At his notice, she smiled, "I returned home many times over the years. I can't bring myself to leave the past." Her cheeks pinked as she mentioned the past.

He was surprised at the intensity of which he was going to offer her his hand, neglect his reasons for coming to New York in the first place, and have her show him to this District X, and tell him everything.

She beat him to it, dragging him down the street, continuing to talk.

"The war was just ending when I reached England with Mary, but I'm sure you figured that one for yourself. I met Max, er, Erik on the train on the way. He was intelligent, and the way he spoke of the world, I enjoyed it. So when he assembled the Brotherhood, I joined him for a time. It's particularly ironic though, I feel no real joy from taking human life when it's the only reason I continue to feel such joy. I'm an energy absorber, you see, simply my touching you is drawing little by little of your energy into me. The way we're touching now, it would take years to drain you. But if I had the intent to, I could. If I kissed you, it would be more intense...hours, rather than years." Her cheeks pinked as she added on the end, "I'm sure we would never become any more intimate than that, but if so, it would only take minutes by my estimations."

"Estimations?" he seemed surprised; intensely so. She was a beautiful young woman, probably with her fair share of admirers. A strange sense of protection overwhelmed him; he didn't want to have another man touching her. Not when she was the girl he'd spared-the one who'd made him briefly reconsider his ways.

"I've never been in a relationship besides Erik. Erik and I kissed a few times, that was all" she said, quietly. She lead him to a dingy apartment building that reminded him of Russia back in 1944, when her white leather pants were white stockings and her sandals were mary janes.

She eased open the door, smiling, and leading him inside. It was on the ground floor, and outside the kitchen window there was a window box of peonies; her youthful attempt to bring life to the stupor of the corner building. Everything in her home spoke of something different. It had all seen better days, yet still showed an overwhelming amount of personality that fit Natasha perfectly. He watched as she shuffled into the kitchen, taking out two chipped coffee mugs and setting them on the counter, "Tea?"

Since she seemed hellbent on making some, he said, "I would be honored, Natasha."

He watched the way she pinked at hearing her name. He sat down on her worn leather couch, glancing about. He heard the sound of the beginnings of falling rain.

"That's New York for you, the weather's as fickle as anywhere else North." She glanced over to him, waiting on the kettle. In a softer tone, she murmured, "Can I get you anything?"

He hesitated on speaking, as did she. The sudden shriek of the kettle tore her from her thoughts, and Arkady found her fumbling rather...adorable. He stood to aid her, but by the time he had, she was walking over with their tea in hand.

"I hope you don't mind peppermint, it's really all I have."

"Peppermint is fine."

She set his down on the table before him and continued to cradle hers in her hands. A moment of silence passed between them.

"What happened since I was gone?"

He decided she was better off not knowing the details, "I am still a killer."

She nodded, as if it explained away everything in the world.

"You were not procecuted?"

She shook her head. The sudden silence was overwhelming. He reached over her small coffee table and placed his hands over hers, "Natasha, speak freely. Tell me what troubles you."

She looked at him, bit her lip and looked away, "I was nothing more than a passing memory, I'm sure. I'm sorry to treat this as if I wasn't, but in that short time...I grew very fond of you, Arkady."

"And I you, Natasha."

Neither moved. Her breath seemed to catch each time she tried to exhale. He shifted, as if to comfort her, and she blurted, "This was a mistake."

His brow furrowed, "How so?"

"Arkady, you're...strong. Mature. In sixty years, I still feel like a naive child. The love I felt for you then was purely familial-I lost my family, and that was something that just...it never healed. But today, I...what I feel for you is wrong to me." At her admission, she looked down, "I don't want to feel this way, when I know you don't."

He took the mug from her hands and set them down, taking her warm hands in his, "I am here in New York on business. But if you would like, I will stay, and we will have dinner."

"Dinner?" she asked softly, "When?"

"Whenever you would like to."

He watched the tension on her face soften as she grasped his hands in return. She closed her eyes before she could become overwhelmed by her emotions.

"Tomorrow night. I'll meet you in Times Square. But please...stay until it's stopped raining."

He nodded, and continued to hold her hands, until eventually, his hands felt as warm as hers, without the tea in them.


	4. Chapter 4

Blessedly, the rain had stopped the next day in time for dinner. Natasha brought him to a cafe in the more mutant centered area of Manhattan.

"That's Avengers Tower" she pointed out, "Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

"There is much irony in the lives of people like us."

She smiled at him, "You've never had many words, have you Arkady?"

"I say what matters" he said. He reached across the table to take her hand, "You are beautiful. Much different than the little girl I remember."

She turned light pink, "Not that much different. I just live in a woman's world now."

"You live in a slightly more tolerant world."

"Slightly."

"A man is always judged by his actions."

"Not by who he is" Natasha finished for him, "Yes, I'm well aware."

He watched her, sighing heavily, "Natasha...I think-"

"Omega Red" he heard a voice say. He turned, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the group of young mutants.

Natasha's smile fell, "We have to start plotting an escape, don't we?"

He returned his gaze to her, "If you would like to continue our reunion, I would suggest so."

She nodded and stood hurriedly, rushing inside for a moment. It only took a moment for a fight to break out. By the time Natasha returned, he was locked in battle with two of the X-Men- Gambit and Northstar. He shouted to her in Russian, "Natasha, _go!"_

He saw her hesitation, her fight or flight instinct warring with her heart. He pushed on them, "Leave!"

She locked her jaw as if she were bracing herself and she ran at them. He was surprised, but she attacked the X-Men.

She was met with an exploding card in her chest.

She stumbled back, clutching the sudden wound. For a moment, Arkady saw red, but then he caught her. She collapsed into his arms, knocking him to the ground under her as if she'd become stone. His knees felt weak. Her chest was bleeding, her eyes wide with panic. He noticed there was a swirling in her lavender eyes. She clutched the coil closest to him and whispered in Russian, "Please, don't let me suffer. Finish it."

He nodded, slowly. His arms wrapped around her in a cradle. He pressed his cheek to her forehead as his coils wrapped around her, "_Ya tebya lyublyu."_

She smiled wistfully, her hand resting on his cheek as she looked into his eyes, "_ya tebya lyublyu_, Arkady. Goodbye. Thank you...for making me happy."

His coil pierced her heart, ending her life instantly instead of drawing it out much longer. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, as if she could hear her, "And you, Natasha...for the memories."

**End**

_ya tebya lyublyu- I love you_


End file.
